Cheering Up Harry
by BrunetteBella
Summary: GRAND PRIZE WINNER for HPFF's Writer's Duel challenge! A depressed Harry Potter finds comfort in what has always been most dear to him - his friends.


**Cheering Up Harry**

**By SarahLupin (BrunetteBella)  
**

_E-mail: _

_Rating: Rated PG for mild swearing._

_Genre: General/Canon Humor_

_Challenge 3: Using the following words/phrases: Nose-Biting Teacup, Ton Tongue Toffees, Kneazles, reference to blood purity (Mudblood, Muggle, Halfblood, Pureblood, Squib)_

Harry Potter had been drowning his sorrows in so many ways the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts that he hadn't even realized it was halfway through July. When Ron wrote his first letter in June asking Harry to come visit, the Boy Who Lived had ignored it – as he had the subsequent seven letters. But when Mr. and Mrs. Weasley showed up on the Dursley's front stoop, it was harder to overlook the situation.

Harry had seen them arrive from his bedroom window, but had no urge to go downstairs and meet with them. The only thing they'd do, he thought, was cart him off to Number 12 Grimmauld Place – and that was the last place on earth he wanted to be. He refused to be tormented any more than he already was by Sirius' memory.

And yet, the Weasleys had come to Number 4 Privet Drive, whether Harry Potter wanted them there or not. He heard the doorbell ring, followed by Aunt Petunia's shrill screams and a earsplitting crash. His uncle's loud, bellowing voice followed.

"What the bloody hell – oh, it's YOU, is it? None of your type allowed in my house! Get out! Last time I let you in here, you blew up the ruddy fireplace!" A ghost of a smile drifted across Harry's face as he thought about the time two summers ago when Mr. Weasley had, in fact, blown up the Dursley's fireplace. But he still didn't feel enough motivation to come downstairs; he remained in bed, staring at the ceiling, his ears straining to her the conversation below him.

"Listen, we've only come for Harry -" Mr. Weasley protested, his voice beginning to rise in anger.

"You've broken the vase! That was priceless, a family heirloom!" he heard Petunia shriek.

"Honestly woman, you saw what happened. It wasn't us, that piggy son of yours backed into it!" That sounded like Fred. Or maybe George? It was hard enough to tell them apart when they were both standing in front of you, let alone when they were on a different level of the house.

"George," Mrs. Weasley cautioned warningly. Okay, so it was George. He had been wrong. Harry stood up and tip-toed closer to his bedroom door, leaning his ear against it to listen.

"Listen, Mr. Dursley, Harry is in danger and he can no longer stay in this house!" Mr. Weasley was clearly irritated now.

"And I don't give a damn! He's not leaving with you, and that's final. Now get out of the house!" Harry imagined that his uncle's face was probably a magnificent shade of fuchsia right about now. He grinned.

"Vernon, why don't we let him leave." Harry's mouth fell open as he heard his aunt's words, although he knew right away that she was trying to avoid another Howler like the one she had gotten at this time last year. Come to think of it, he had never quite figured that out –

"B-b-but, Petunia dear…" Uncle Vernon stuttered incoherently.

"Lovely! We'll just be a moment," Mrs. Weasley said in a falsely cheery voice. "Harry dear, pack your things!" she called up the stairs. Harry threw the few items he had unpacked back into his trunk and closed the latches, picking up Hedwig's cage on his way out of the room. Fred and George were standing just outside the door, dressed head to toe in purple dragon skin suits.

"Harry!" Fred greeted him brightly, taking Hedwig's cage from him as George picked up his trunk.

"How's business been?" Harry asked, a genuine smile breaking over his face.

"Brilliant. We can hardly keep up," George answered.

"Mummy, make them leave!" Dudley whined loud enough for the young men to hear.

"Pity we didn't think to bring any Ton-Tongue Toffees," Fred commented dryly, rolling his eyes.

"Dreadful creatures, those Muggles," George said with a sigh.

"Fred? George? Are you coming?" Mrs. Weasley called up the steps impatiently.

"In a moment, mum," Fred responded.

"In a second, mother," replied George.

"In an instant -"

"In a jiffy -"

"RIGHT NOW!"

"Right now," the twins chorused, lifting up Harry's belongings and trekking down the stairway. Harry trailed behind them a few feet.

"Harry," Mrs. Weasley sighed happily as she caught sight of him. Harry noticed both she and Mr. Weasley looked completely exhausted.

"Well then, we'll be leaving," Mr. Weasley said quickly, holding out a deflated football. Instinctively, Harry held out his hand and touched it with his index finger. Moments later, he felt an all-too-familiar tug from behind his navel and was pulled away from Privet Drive along with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and the twins. Harry took a deep breath, his eyes still closed, as he landed unsteadily in a different location. He opened his eyes fully expecting to see the dark foyer of Grimmauld Place and have to sneak quietly past the portrait of Mrs. Black, but as he looked around he found himself in an entirely different place.

The cozy kitchen of The Burrow was in front of him, with dishes piled three feet up in the sink and a pile of potatoes on the countertop. Harry sighed to himself, happy to be in one of the only places he had ever considered home.

"I'm sorry, Harry, you'll have to excuse the mess," Mrs. Weasley said, bustling around the kitchen as she pointed her wand at the pile of unwashed dishes, which immediately began moving about as they washed themselves. "We've just been so busy I haven't been able to clean properly."

"It's fine, Mrs. Weasley," he said honestly.

"I'll make you some tea, dear. Sit down. Now, where has Ron gone off to?" She frowned, looking into the next room. "RONALD! Where are you? Harry's here!"

Harry sat quietly at the kitchen table as Mrs. Weasley handed him his teacup. The tall red-headed boy slinked through the doorway a few minutes later, followed by a worried-looking Hermione.

"Harry! Oh, I was so concerned; we hadn't heard a word from you all summer! I didn't know if something had happened to you! Are you all right?" Before he could answer, she had engulfed him in a huge hug, nearly knocking him off his chair.

"I'm fine, Hermione," he answered, his voice muffled in her bushy hair. As she released him and settled into the chair across the table, Harry thought he saw an envious look flash across Ron's face, but if he had, it was gone before he could fully tell.

"You didn't answer any of my letters," Ron said gruffly, inspecting a scratch on the wood of the table.

"Honestly, Ron," Hermione replied, shaking her head. "We've been through this! I'm sure Harry was in no mood to write letters." She gave Ron a significant look.

"He still could've -"

"Sorry," Harry said suddenly, surprising them both. "I'm sorry I didn't write you." He looked down at his cooling tea and raised the cup for a sip. Hermione winced.

"Oh, Harry, I wouldn't -"

"Hey mate, don't -"

"OUCH!" Harry yelped in pain as the teacup clamped onto his nose and the tea came pouring out onto his t-shirt. He pulled helplessly on the cup which was still attached to his face.

"We tried to warn you. Fred and George have been leaving their products all over the house. It's dangerous to live here anymore," Ron told him with a chuckle.

"Harry," Hermione said, giggling hysterically. "You look… so ridiculous… with that thing… on your nose…" She could hardly breathe she was laughing so hard.

"Stop laughing and get it off of me!" Harry cried, pulling at it. "Ouch. How do you get these things off?"

"Seems to be working well," George commented, strolling into the kitchen with Fred, who was carrying a clipboard, nodding and scrawling down notes.

"Looks perfect," Fred replied, inspecting the teacup and its grip on Harry's nose.

"Take it off," Harry growled.

"Ah, sorry mate, we can't," George said, shrugging. "It's our addition to the original Nose-Biting Teacup – it won't come off for at least an hour!"

"Fred? George?" Mrs. Weasley called from the other room. The twins exchanged a fearful glance before disapparating immediately. Mrs. Weasley walked into the room. "Now where in the world…" she trailed off as she caught sight of Harry. "They are going to be in big trouble when I find them!" she fumed. Harry flinched as she whipped out her wand and pointed it at him, waving it wildly. The tea spill disappeared from the front of his shirt. "I swear, they've jinxed half the things in this house! First the bedsprings, then the kneazles in the closet, now the dishes! I have had enough of this kind of behaviour!"

Ron looked like he wanted to tell his mother to stop yelling about things he hadn't done, but instead he wisely kept his mouth shut. Mrs. Weasley stalked angrily out of the kitchen.

"Kneazles in the closet?" Hermione asked incredulously. Ron shrugged.

"Some experiment gone wrong, I suppose. Fred and George entirely forgot about them until they started clawing down the door. Mum was furious."

"I'm sure," Harry muttered, pulling at the teacup. "Ouch."

"Leave it alone, Harry," Hermione said in a commanding voice.

"Easy for you to say," he grumbled. "You don't have a teacup stuck on your nose." Hermione snorted with laughter before breaking out into giggles again. Ron covered his mouth with his hand, trying desperately not to laugh but failing miserably. Soon they were both cracking up.

"It's not funny," Harry said, crossing his arms stubbornly, even though he too was laughing a little. "Really…"

"Harry…" Hermione gasped, wiping away tears from her eyes. "You've got a teacup…" She dissolved into laughter again.

"Stuck to your nose!" Ron finished gleefully, leaning heavily on the table for support.

"And it's not coming off for an hour," Harry said, chuckling along with his friends. "I'm going to look like this for another sixty minutes." Hermione laughed even harder, eventually falling out of her chair, which Ron and Harry thought was hilarious. When Ginny walked in a few minutes later, she just shook her head at the scene.

"I don't even want to know," she told them, walking back out of the kitchen.

Ron sighed, taking a deep breath to try to calm himself down. "Ah, that was one of the funniest things I've ever seen," he said, still chuckling a little. Harry stopped laughing as well and was silent for a moment.

"Thanks for cheering me up guys," he told them seriously.

"Hey mate, it's our job!" Ron replied, punching Harry's arm playfully.

"Who would've known that all it took was one of these ridiculous contraptions," Hermione said thoughtfully, picking up another teacup that had been sitting on the table. She turned it upside down and inspected the bottom, then brought it closer to her face for a better look.

"Mum's going into Diagon Alley tomorrow and she said she'd take us," Ron informed Harry.

"Sounds good. I really need more potions ingredients, and I've been dying to look at the new broomstick," Harry replied.

"The Lightning 4000? It's the fastest one out there! They just came out with it a month ago. I can't wait to see it - I've heard it's unbelievable," Ron raved.

"Faster than Muggle cars, according to Quidditch Weekly," Harry added. Ron's eyes glazed over.

"Wow… The Lightning 4000… I bet it's worth thousands of galleons though," he said, shrugging. "Have you thought about buying one?"

"I'm not sure yet," Harry said. His eyes drifted across the table to where Hermione was sitting. She was still inspecting the teacup, but it was getting progressively closer and closer to her face. If she didn't stop soon, Harry knew exactly what was going to happen. Ron followed his gaze and noticed as well. He leaned across the table, attempting to snatch the cup from her hands, but she only pulled it closer.

"Hermione -" Ron began, looking worried.

"Be careful!" Harry warned.

"OUCH!"

"Told you so," the boys chorused before breaking out into laughter again.


End file.
